by Ryan Muree
Kylah waved at him to get his attention.
He’d tell Stadhold when he was good and ready, when he’d gotten all his answers. “Yes, but I’m not discussing it anymore.”
There was a long silence. He’d expected her to argue back, but when she hadn’t, he turned to leave.
“I feel like you’re trying to avoid me. I get this is awkward, but I want you to know that I think you’re a good man.” Kylah smiled.
He would have shrugged it off, passed on the compliment, but coming from her, it felt worse. He turned to look at her.
“We were actually in training together. Same class, and I knew then, you’d be a good Keeper.”
He tried to remember those days. He certainly remembered some of the training exercises, but he hadn’t remembered her. It was difficult to remember much before his assignment to Emeryss.
“We share the same mentality,” she said. “We’d risk our lives for others.” She bit her lip and smiled.
Was she being nice or flirting?
“All Keepers share that mentality,” he said grimly. “It’s been ingrained in us.”
“Yeah, but, I mean…” She shrugged. “Very few are as skilled as you are while being as good as you are. It’s nice. It’s a change. I can see why your parents put you up for your matches so early—”
“Kylah—”
“I get the feeling, you aren’t happy about that. Is that true?”
She didn’t hold back, did she? He paced away from her. “Yes, that’s true.”
“Really?”
He stopped and grimaced at her.
“Oh.” She tucked her chin down. “I know I’m a few years older than you, but—”
“That’s not it.”
She fidgeted with her fingers. “There’s someone else, right? You’ve already fallen for them, and they weren’t an allowed match?”
He couldn’t tell her the truth and put Emeryss in danger.
“No.” He rubbed his jaw. “There’s no one else.”
He hated saying that, but it was safer that way.
She watched him until he looked at her.
“What?” he asked.
“There is someone else. I can tell.”
“It’s none of your business—”
“But it is because I’m Stadholden. We’re matched together in the lineage tablets, it’s what we do—”
“It’s not what I do.”
Her mouth dropped a little. “I’m trying to get to know you.”
“And I’m not interested.”
She rose and walked nearer to him—too close. Her hand rested on his arm. “Because there’s someone else. Grier, we don’t get that luxury. Our jobs are our lives. Stadholdens also understand that you can’t be matched together with who you want. It’s not personal—”
“Are you a spy?” He jerked away from her.
She scoffed. “A what? How could you say that after Khendell—”
“Are you a spy for my mother? Are you part of her mess?”
Kylah’s brown eyebrows drew in. Her mouth curved into a frown. “No… I’m genuinely interested in you as a match. I think we’d be perfect—”
“I’m not ready to be matched,” he said, more earnestly than before. “I’d rather focus on my job, helping these kids and stopping Orr. So, if you can’t focus on the mission, then you can go back.”
She opened her mouth to speak, and he left her there for the welcomed silence of Dova and Lawrence.
Maybe Kylah wasn’t a spy for his mother, but she wouldn’t understand, and she didn’t need to.
Chapter 18
Lower Aurelis — Revel
Clove, Jahree, and Mack peered out from a side street at the demolished advisor manor.
Bushes had been scorched to nothing. The walls were crumbling. The window frames had been streaked black with smoke damage. It used to be beautiful, that much was clear, but now…
“Damn,” Jahree whispered. “That was a nasty fight.”
“They deserved it if they had Ingini as slaves,” Clove muttered.
“Why’d they leave that up?” Mack pointed to the torn REV banner still hanging from the roof.
Jahree shook his head. “I don’t know. You’d think the RCA would have taken it down.”
“We keep putting it back up,” a voice said behind them.
A large man with a wide belly, big arms, and a bloody apron was leaning against an ether-lamppost just behind them.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Jahree said, hands up.
The man rubbed his knicked hands on his apron and held one hand out for them to shake. “I’m Worn. I’m the butcher a few streets over. Where are you from?”
Clove and Mack tried not to exchange glances.
“Khendell,” Jahree lied. “You’re a butcher? In the REV?”
“Two separate jobs, I assure you.” He pointed to the banner. “I make sure it stays up there, so people know who did it. Helps us gather recruits who don’t look like they’re from Khendell but show up to see what we’re about and what we did.”
Anyone who worked against the RCA was worth some trust to Clove, but Jahree was being cautious.
“We’re friends to Ingini,” Worn added. “We’re the ones who liberated all those slaves in there.”
Clove nodded. “We heard.”
“You looking to join?” he asked.
“The REV?” Jahree rubbed the back of his neck. “Not sure about that, but we’re here looking for someone. If you helped break this place open, then you might have heard of him.”
“Maybe, but we keep a lot of identities a secret inside the REV. What’s he look like?”
“He’d have a fake arm,” Clove said quickly. “It was made for him. He’d be tall, dark hair—”
Worn raised his hands. “We got a lot of tall guys with dark hair, but the arm definitely sounds familiar. Still, I don’t know who you are, so—”
“I’m his sister.” Clove stepped forward, hand to her chest to keep her heart in. “I’ve been looking for him—”
“I’m not going to disclose just anyone who may or may not be on my team, and I’d suggest you keep your identities quiet, too. I can tell you that if you want to see who’s in the group, then you should come to a meeting.”
“A REV meeting?” Jahree asked.
“Bide your time until tomorrow night.” He handed Jahree a slip of paper. “There. Follow the signs.”
Jahree looked at the paper, read it to himself under his breath, and nodded.
“I’ll wait for you outside and get you in. Get something to cover yourselves. A hood at least.” The man dissolved into rust-colored ether, reformed into a small orange cat, and trotted down the street.
“I’ll never get used to that,” Mack mumbled.
“One step closer,” Jahree said to Clove.
Yes, one step closer.
They’d managed to get a room to share, find some dark jackets with hoods, and hid out until the next night.
“Where are we going?” Clove asked. “What does the paper say?”
“Glint,” Jahree said. “I’m assuming it’s Glint Street, but where on Glint street is the question.”
“Just look for the orange cat.” Mack, seeming amused with himself, put on his shoes. “Because that’s totally normal.”
“Nah, there’s gotta be something on the street to follow.” Jahree opened the door for them. “He said to follow the signs.”
“But we’re going to have to be sneaky, right?” Clove asked. “There’s a curfew.”
Jahree nodded. “Stick to the shadows. I’ll do what I can if we get into trouble, but we’ll just have to be careful.”
Clove took a sharp breath and swallowed. Deep in the country that hated her and Mack, in the thick of their bustling capital, after curfew with patrolling RCA units… If this is what it felt like to be Emeryss and the others the whole time they were in Ingini, she finally understood.
Jahree led them past streets and through
alleys toward their destination.
All the streets had fancy names like Golden, Hope, or Dawn. It was nauseating, really.
The buildings were made mostly of stone and weren’t nearly as tall as their buildings in Ethrecity. There weren’t really any modes of transportation for them except for carts pulled by mawks, and the ether-lamps were all lit, bright and gold. No green haze. No cloudy ether fog. Just air. Just pure light.
Jahree checked around a building and motioned them to follow. “That’s Glint Street,” he whispered.
The clomping of mawks echoed ahead of them.
They pressed their backs against the cold, stone wall and waited for the RCA to pass.
“Insane,” Mack whispered.
And she agreed. Their own people weren’t even free.
Jahree waved them on, and they slipped down the street toward Glint. “Eyes open for signs.”
Big, bright beautiful posters shone through the golden haze from the ether-lamps. From the street to the rooftops, they advertised a greater life with the RCA, more land outside of Aurelis, or better food just down the street.
“What’s that?” Mack asked pointing up to a poster. “It has a letter circled.”
“R,” Jahree said. “Look for something similar.”
They scanned the posters up and down the road until Clove came across a musician’s poster with a picture of their band. The E was circled in their band name just like the R had been circled.
“Here’s an E,” Clove whispered loudly.
Jahree and Mack ran down to meet her.
“Well,” Mack said, “It’s leading in this direction.”
“Look for a V.”
They walked carefully, eying each one.
Cayn could be right here.
She ran her fingers over each paper, skimming every letter.
“V!” Mack said.
It ended at a poster advertising the RCA.
“Ready?” Worn stepped out from behind a crate. Rust-colored dust plumed around him.
He walked over, peeled back the RCA poster, pushed a wooden plank, and a false wall popped out.
They followed him inside and let the false wall close behind them.
“Keep your hoods low. And since you’re new, just listen, and I’ll explain anything you don’t understand later.” Worn slid a dark hood over his head and led them down a few halls into a larger room.
Benches filled the space, and every spot was full.
“Full house,” Jahree whispered.
“The back, then?” Clove pointed, and they moved to stand against the wall.
“If anything gets weird, we bolt out of here, right?” Mack whispered.
Clove nodded, but she was too busy scanning the crowd for Cayn. Too short, too big. No one looked like him from body size alone.
What if he was right there? What if he’d lost weight being a slave? What if he’d gotten bigger doing work for them? She had no idea what to expect—
Jahree’s hand appeared at her arm, pulling her back.
She’d subconsciously moved forward. “Sorry.”
“We’ll find him, I promise,” Jahree said.
But he could be right there. She wanted to shout his name, raise her hand, ask who’d seen him.
“Welcome,” Worn said from the front. “As everyone can see, we’re getting people from all over, which means better news for the people of Revel and more progress against the monarchy.”
The crowd murmured their agreement.
“First, I’m sure you’ve come here because of the recent message made by one of our members. She uncovered just how many grimoires the RCA have been keeping from us in the vault, and we were able to secure some more grimoires for members to use. Please, welcome our North mission leader.”
The audience buzzed with excitement as hurried whispers moved through the room.
A small woman with an ethereal mask approached the front, placed her hands on the podium in front of her and said, “Welcome, old and new members.”
Adalai.
Clove would recognize that voice anywhere. Chills moved over her from head to toe, and anger roiled up from the pit of her stomach. If she’d wanted to scream and shout before, it was damn near impossible to keep it down now.
Jahree cursed under his breath.
“Is that who I think it is?” Mack asked.
Clove’s nostrils grew hot, and she had to bite her own lip to keep from losing her composure.
Mack’s hand went to her other arm. “It’s okay. We’re just here for Cayn right now, right?”
What would Adalai do if she knew they were standing there right then? Would she be smug? Shocked? Would she run?
She’d never run.
She wasn’t a coward.
Clove swallowed hard and ground her teeth. She’d promised Adalai that she would kill her if she saw her again, and now to see her, possibly working with her brother or her brother working with her… Him never knowing what she’d done to their country, what she’d said about him probably being dead, what she’d done to her. It was unnerving.
Her skin was crawling with the impulse to pull out her ether-gun and shoot it.
Adalai would never see it coming. She’d be dead before she even knew what happened.
Of course, then they’d be taken down by all these Casters and she’d never see Cayn…
Adalai was damn lucky Clove still hadn’t found Cayn.
“Our mission was a success, yes, but there’s more to do,” Adalai said. “The South division just got word of the advisors moving some of their Ingini slaves. They’re rearranging them or moving them somewhere to hold them, we believe.”
“To where?” someone shouted.
Adalai lifted her hand. “Our intel got word from another advisor that the RCA Ethereal Series is going forward as planned.”
Disagreement moved around the room.
“They’re going to announce it any day now,” Adalai continued. “We believe they’re moving the Ingini then.”
“But why?” someone else shouted to her.
“We’re not sure,” she replied. “It’s possible it’s to keep their identities hidden. It could be because they anticipate Ingini coming for them. But it’s us who will be coming for them.”
The room got excited.
“We’ve rescued two houses since the vault. Those Ingini are free and clear. Those advisors are good and scared,” Adalai said.
She’s helping the REV free Ingini? She’s saving their people…
“We have a group moving through another house right now. We are rescuing more as we speak.”
The crowd got louder with their cheers.
These people didn’t hate Ingini. They knew what was happening was wrong. They knew their government was wrong. And Adalai was leading them against it. Was she trying to correct her mistakes? Or just do what was right?
“It’s not enough,” Adalai said. “They’ll get smarter. They’ll get tougher. We need to end this.”
The crowd murmured their agreement again. They were eating out of the palm of her hand because she was a natural at this.
“I want to plan something bigger. Something better. Something that would get the whole country to see us,” Adalai said.
“Here she goes,” Jahree whispered.
Yes, typical Adalai. Too big. Too much. Too far. Only listening to herself. Only caring about herself.
“We’re going to hit the RCA Ethereal Series. I’m going in, and while I distract the king, the RCA, and the crowd, our teams will be finding the Ingini that they’re trafficking. We’ll get them all in one fell swoop.”
The crowd cheered while several tried to shush the louder ones.
She was offering herself as bait to save the others…
“After this meeting,” Adalai continued, “after our group finishes their next break-in tonight, we’re dispersing. We’ll be meeting in smaller groups. We’ll never return here again.”
The crowd whispered to one another
, and Clove’s hope fell. If Cayn wasn’t here, then it’d be another meeting or another day…
“If you want to help, you’ll need to set up with one of our group leaders for orders. You’ll have your own meeting place to discuss what the plan is. If we get too big, we’ll get too much attention. We’ll be too obvious. We have to stay safe and keep our groups small.”
The audience agreed.
“We’re going to need a lot of help. We’re going to need a lot of organizers on this, but if we can hit the RCA where it hurts, then we can take them on eventually. We can chip away at their members. We can keep taking resources. We can take back our country!”
Adalai was as powerful and as strong as ever. In front of a group and organizing plans and missions, she was in her element. It’s where she shined.
It was infuriating on some level.
“What do you think she has planned?” Mack asked.
Clove shook her head. Who knew with Adalai? It could have been anything.
“Spread out and look for Cayn,” Jahree told them. “Do it quickly unless you want a run-in with Adalai.”
Clove had considered it, just to let her know she was watching. But there was no point. Adalai was trying to do good again but had actually succeeded. She was trying to help their people. She wanted to be on the right side of history, and maybe she’d learned her lesson, but Clove wouldn’t get in her way.
Not now. Cayn was priority one.
She and Mack spanned the room, casually trying to check faces under dark hoods, but none of the attendees were Cayn.
“He could be with that group she mentioned,” Mack said in her ear. “He could be helping to save others.”
But would Cayn do that? He was never a bad person, but he wasn’t exactly for underground meeting places and secret societies. It wasn’t his thing. Lounging on chaises and doing whatever he wanted was more his thing.
“He could be on his way home, too, and I’m wasting my time,” Clove said.
Jahree approached and crossed his arms. “Or he got picked up again and he’s at some other advisor’s house?”
